


No Longer Galatea

by voleuse



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-13
Updated: 2004-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His fantasies have nothing on reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Longer Galatea

**Author's Note:**

> Futurefic, but written after the first movie.

Elizabeth has been home from sea for seven months when she first kisses him.

It is after a soiree at the governor's mansion, in a secluded corner of the garden.

Needless to say, Commodore James Norrington is rather surprised.

She is technically married, after all.

*

 

She had married Turner, as he expected, though no one else had. She had been the most beautiful bride he ever recalled seeing.

It was with a pang that he reminded himself, over and over, that she wasn't his bride.

He stayed on the battlements for as long as possible that night, but even he couldn't rationalize standing guard until morning. A few hours past midnight, he bid farewell to those on duty and returned to his quarters.

He undressed slowly, and slipped into his bed heavily. Closed his eyes, and saw...

_Elizabeth, her head leaning back, passion written across her face._

His eyes flew open, and he took a deep breath, calming his heart. Closed his eyes again.

_Her hands, white and smooth, trailing down Turner's back._

He groaned, turned over, and resolved to let the fantasy play out, if only in order to let him get some sleep, eventually.

_She would, of course, still be dressed in her wedding gown, and she'd be exhausted after the day of festivities. She would be gazing out the window of the bedroom, moonlight falling like water across her face. _

Turner would appear behind her, would turn her and kiss her full, lush lips, until she panted for breath. Turner would cup her breasts under his hands, rough from the smithy, and the thread of her gown would catch on his fingers.

She would watch Turner, eyes wide, as he unlaced her bodice and skirt, pulling at ribbon and string until her body was bare to his eyes. He would run his hands over the pale of her skin, and she would smile at the feel of them.

Her breasts, god, her breasts would be perfect, round and perfect in his hands, just as he imagined the day she had almost drowned. Her hair would tumble over her shoulders, and he would marvel at the feel of it, as he kissed her again, as they stumbled to the bed, as he finally eased into her.

She would arch against him, passionate as he imagined, and her nails would dig into her back as he thrust inside of her, worshipfully. She would murmur Mine_ against his shoulder, and when she reached her climax, she would shout his name like a gasp, "James!"_

He opened his eyes and groaned. Rolled over, away from the damp patch on his mattress.

Slept, and if he dreamed, he didn't remember in the morning.

*

 

It was only a few months before Will and Elizabeth Turner disappeared from their home. Most people assumed they had run away to the pirates, as some had reported seeing a skiff, disappearing around the edge of another island.

He knew it for truth, even though he had been miles away at the time.

Elizabeth was on the Pearl, now, with her husband and Sparrow.

*

 

The sea swayed beneath his ship, and he wished that he were on watch. Normally, he's a bit relieved to return to his bunk for some rest, but the Black Pearl was sighted a few days ago, and they gave chase.

Fruitlessly.

Elizabeth was on that ship, he knew, and now she was gone. Again.

The Pearl had disappeared across the horizon, and though it couldn't have gone far, they hadn't found a trace of it. He assumed they were hidden behind some unknown, unassuming isle, drunk on rum and lawlessness.

It occurred to him that, handsome as Turner was, Sparrow would prove to be competition for Elizabeth's fancy. Dark and liquid, Sparrow was, and Elizabeth had fancied pirates for as long as he had known her.

He cursed his mind, then, providing him with the picture. Cursed himself for allowing it.

_The beach would be lit by bonfires, and raucous laughter would shimmer in the air. _

Elizabeth and Turner would be off to the side, warm by their own fire, but she would glance over at the pirates, every few minutes, a smile tweaking her mouth even as Turner embraced her.

Sparrow would, of course, appear out of nowhere, bottle of liquor clasped in each hand. He would nod at the couple, and grin. Turner, being oddly subservient to Sparrow, would release Elizabeth and move back as Sparrow approached. Turner would take the bottle offered to him.

Elizabeth would lick her lips before taking a sip of the rum, would lick her lips before Sparrow descended upon her.

They would kiss, and he can't believe, for a moment, that Turner would allow another man to kiss his wife, but in the firelight, they're beautiful.

Sparrow would shed his clothes like rain, and Elizabeth lie back on the sand with a grin, her body twisting under his golden skin.

She would moan so sweetly, under Sparrow's hands, unused to anything but Will's touch. Sparrow, however, would be a different sort of lover, teasing her until she pleaded for him. She would writhe as he plunged into her, mercilessly, and she would bite her lip, revelling in it.

He would roll them about, sand rushing against their limbs, she would squeal as she sat astride him. Unsure, she would at first rock unsteadily against his body, then faster. Harder.

Her eyes on Will, she would spill devotion, loveyouloveyouloveyou_, and he wouldn't know who she meant, he or Turner, but--_

The knock sounds hollow at the door, but it is loud enough to startle him from his reverie. "Commodore?"

He mumbled a reply and fell out of his bunk. He wasn't sure whether he's glad of the interruption.

*

 

_The Present, again_

Her lips are nothing like James had expected. They are soft, but chapped from the sun. She tastes not like sunshine, but of sugar and the sea.

When they part, her hand still rests on his shoulder, and he takes it in his own. He's surprised by the callouses on her palm. "I'm sorry," he hesitates, "Elizabeth. What about Turner?"

"Will." She shuts her eyes, and pain etches across her brow. "Is gone."

There had been speculation about that, too, but he had never felt bold enough to ask. She, it seems, is bold enough for the both of them.

"James." She doesn't pause. "You are, you've always been, a fine man."

He's surprised at the familiarity, but pleased. "Thank you."

She acknowledges his reply, and continues. "I never fully appreciated you before, and I hope you won't hold that against me now."

He realizes he still clutches her hand, but he can't quite let go of her, yet.

"I hope," she bites her lip, "we can renew our former friendship, despite the past."

"Despite the past." He thinks of Turner, of Sparrow. Of a year and a half of yearning. "You won't...leave again?"

She looks down, at their hands clasped. "I can't promise I won't leave." She brings his hand to her mouth, brushes her lips against his knuckles. "But I would want you to come with me."

"I can't promise that," he replies. Then he bends his head, and kisses her. Feels the flicker of her tongue, and smiles. Draws back. "But I suppose we could work something out."

She grins at him, and kisses him again. "I suppose that will have to do."

He dares to take her in his arms, and the fabric of her gown catches against his hands. He laughs. "It will."


End file.
